In The Wake
by HHB-733
Summary: SSA Lauren Scott comes to the BAU unintentionally and doesn't plan to stay. During the case she brings, however, she becomes attached to the team and a certain young doctor.
1. Chapter 1

"Special Agent Hotchner?"

A very imposing, cold looking man looked up from his desk.

"Yes. How can I help you?"

I took a step into the agent's office awkwardly, extending out my hand for a handshake. Just as awkwardly, SSA Hotchner extended his, still not rising.

Seeing I would not be getting the usual formalities of a guest, I cut to the chase and did what I came to the BAU to do.

"This is from SSA Willington in Kansas City," I said as I handed him a large, overly stuffed manila folder.

SSA Hotchner took it quickly, opening it without saying thank you. Now that my hands were free, I adjusted my suit jacket, placing my hands in front of myself, resting them together.

The SSA carefully dumped the contents of the envelope onto his already cluttered desk. Papers and photographs spilled out. He examined them carefully, sure to leave each page as crisp as he found it.

"And what am I to do with this?" he asked, not looking up.

That caught me off guard… I had been told to bring this here… I didn't even know what it was. I was uncomfortable but I didn't want it to show in front of this man.

"Sir, SSA Willington expressed that this material was to be brought to you immediately and expressed concern that you would find it as important as he did."

"Then why didn't he call to inform me himself?" SSA Hotchner asked with an ounce of annoyance.

I tried not to let it get to me. I answered just as abrupt as he retorted. "He did try, sir. 15 times exactly. Since his calls were unanswered and unreturned, he didn't want this envelope to be lost in the stack. He ordered me onto a plane and to bring this here to you immediately."

The SSA remained quiet, still looking through the papers. "Have you been briefed on this case?"

"No, sir. I was not informed and I didn't think I could re-seal the envelope effectively."

SSA Hotchner laughed under his breath. It was strained and sounded like he didn't do it often. I relaxed just a little, knowing that even this cold, business-like man could understand an easy joke.

He put the materials back into the envelope carefully, not attempting to reseal it. He handed it back towards me.

I took it, still standing in my place, waiting for his response to the material I'd flown hundreds of miles to deliver.

"Take this to SSA Jennifer Jareau, she will review it quickly and put together a briefing."

The SSA looked back at his desk, picking up papers and reading. I understood that he was done with me and that I should follow his directions. I nodded his way and turned to see myself out.

Walking back out into the BAU's main office, I felt eyes on me and knew that I was being watched. Surely the SSA's here gossiped about who went into their bosses' office just like they did at home. Walking quickly and with purpose, to avoid being run over by passing suits, I started out to find SSA Jareau's office.

Of course SSA Hotcher didn't give me directions. I was expected to find her myself.

Figuring that her office was along the same walkway as SSA Hotchner's, I looked at the offices near the one I had just left. Three of them were not Special Agent Jareau's. I continued to walk, determined not to ask anyone. The minute that you show that you're uncomfortable and unsure, the minute that you lose your confidence.

Finally, I found an office across the way and read the label. 'Aha, finally,' I thought to myself.

Upon entering, I knocked on the doorframe. A beautiful woman with long blonde hair raised her head.

"Special Agent Jareau?"

She smiled. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Hi," I said informally, feeling more comfortable with her than the previous SSA, "I'm SSA Lauren Scott. Agent Hotchner asked me to bring this to you."

I handed her the envelope just as I had to the first agent.

"SSA Willington in Kansas City passed it along to him for review. I personally delivered it."

SSA Jareau looked up at me with raised eyebrows. "It must be really important then…"

She emptied the envelope quickly and looked back up at me. Realizing I was still standing, she grew a look of shock. "Please sit!"

I smiled graciously and slipped into a chair opposite her desk.

"Wow…have you review this case Agent Scott?" she asked, her brow furrowed and eyes glued to the papers.

"Um…briefly. I told Agent Hotchner I was not informed and didn't look in the envelope."

Agent Jareau looked up at me, surprised.

"But I did." She laughed. "I couldn't help it, 2 hours on a plane and a mysterious envelope that had to be hand delivered!"

Agent Jareau looked back at the contents, still smiling. "I have a million cases in my head right now, give me the details."

I straightened up, recalling what I had read and examined. "So far four victims, varying ages and race. They were in a twenty-mile radius of each other, all killed in their homes. Same murder weapon, a .38 handgun."

"Good. That looks like the basics… I'm going to get this presentation ready and we should have a briefing within the next 20 minutes."

I smiled. "That's impressive."

She shrugged, still grinning at her own success. "You can wait in the lounge and have a cup of coffee until then."

I frowned. "I'm sure I'm expected to be back in Kansas City soon. I was only told to deliver the package."

"No," she said matter-of-factly, "You're going to stay. You're doing the presentation. I don't have time to read through this case and you had two hours on it. I'll call your superior momentarily."

I nodded, not sure what to say. I started to turn to leave.

"Agent Scott?"

I spun on my heel quickly. "Ma'am?"

"Why was it so imperative that this package be hand delivered? Nothing about it seems urgent or out of the ordinary for a murder investigation…"

I shrugged. "The only thing that I can think of is what's not in that file… a Kansas City newspaper called the unsub "The Bedtime Killer." People are getting frenzied. The media is creating a social panic and starting to label areas as "potential zones" for the next victims. It's not sitting well with the FBI and if we bring it in as a working BAU case, we can shut them down as interfering with the investigation."

"I see. Thank you, Agent Scott, I'll see you soon. Oh and Agent Scott, please call me JJ. Agent Jareau is so stifling!"

I smiled at her and left her office, heading down the hallway in search of the lounge and a good cup of coffee.

As I walked, it finally hit me. I was in Quantico at the BAU…and about to give a briefing on a case that I shouldn't have looked at and was just supposed to deliver. And now Agent Jareau, er, JJ was going to call my boss and tell him that I'm staying here… that should go over well… I shuddered at the thought.

Walking into the lounge, I got an overwhelming feeling of homesickness. I wished I was back in Kansas city, with my own desk, and my own stack of paperwork. I sighed as I poured myself a cup of coffee. Why did Willington send me? I was quietly working away as usual, getting twice the amount of work done in nanoseconds and he tears me away from it.

"Here, take this," he said, "You're ahead of your work already. Take this to Quantico. Aaron Hotchner is too busy to pick up a damned phone!"

So that's what I get. Working hard and I get to be a courier. And now I have to give a brief about a case. Geez. I was not thrilled at the thought. Public speaking was not my cup of tea. I hated it.

I sat at a table alone in the empty lounge and timed the clock for twenty minutes. I sipped slowly, trying to gather my thoughts and not sound like a complete idiot at my first, and hopefully last, briefing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright, everyone, let's get started."

JJ commanded the attention of the room with all eyes on her and she spoke confidently. Around an oval table, all I could see were backs of heads attached to bodies in office chairs. I stood in the back corner of the room, unnoticed and standing.

'Ok,' I told myself, 'Just watch how she does it. It'll be easy. It's like she's talking to friends… friends that just happen to be some of the FBI's finest…'

I shuddered, preparing myself.

"We have a case from Kansas City that was hand delivered to us. Our messenger has been briefed on the case and will be delivering it for you today. This is Special Agent Lauren Scott."

All chairs spun my way and eyes were on me. "Hello everyone. Good morning!"

I spoke a little too peppy. I inwardly cursed myself but tried to keep my head up. Thankfully, JJ rescued me.

"On our team is Agent Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, Dr. Spencer Reid, David Rossi, and you've already met Aaron Hotchner."

The team nodded at me and I avoided Agent Hotchner's glance. I didn't want him to remember that I had said I wasn't briefed on the case and I didn't peek in the envelope.

"Agent Scott?" JJ asked, getting me ready to start. She took a remote control of the table, pointed it at the TV behind her, and took her seat. On the TV appeared pictures of the first crime scene.

"In Kansas City, we have a bit of problem," I began, telling the same story that I'd told to JJ, "Four victims killed in their homes with the same .38 handgun. Different ages and races, all in a twenty-mile radius. The media is calling him "The Bedtime Killer." All the attacks are happening after dark. No forced entry."

An awkward silence fell over the room as they looked through their tablets at the virtual evidence. I almost wanted to announce "The end!" so the silence would end.

Finally, a woman looked up, Agent Prentiss. "Was anyone home at the time of the invasions?"

I answered quickly "On victims 2 and 3, yes. Their families were outside. The second was grilling and she had come in to get plates and the third, the family was outside playing soccer in their yard. The other victims were home alone, victim one lived alone and number four was home alone but had family who were out."

She looked back down. The next question came from Agent Derek Morgan.

"There was no sign of disturbance in the homes? No forced entry and no sign of a fight?"

His voice and eyes caught me off guard and took me a second to answer.

"N..No, everything was in place."

"What about the media?" JJ hinted. She wanted me to tell the team why the case was so urgent. I inwardly kicked myself for forgetting that, how stupid of me! I felt flustered and embarrassed. Why had she asked me to present this?

"The media is calling him the Bedtime Killer. They're starting to sensationalize him and creating "zones" they think he will strike next. People are getting frenzied and the investigation is almost out of the police department's immediate control."

Agent Rossi sat back in his chair. "Well, Hotch?"

"We need to get this back in control. Wheels up in 30," Hotchner announced, standing quickly, "Agent Scott, my office."

He left suddenly, assuming I'd follow. I messed up. I knew it! JJ probably didn't tell him I was giving the briefing. He was going to scold me for knowing the details of the case. I was really in for it, I knew it. God, I hope he wasn't going to call Willington!

I followed Hotchner out, head down, preparing for the verbal lashing I was about to get. I heard the team in the briefing room gather and begin to talk. Oh no, please don't be talking about what a horrible job I did, I thought.

I entered Hotchner's office as he was seating himself behind his desk.

"Agent Scott, I apologize," he said suddenly, "My behavior earlier was not quiet polite."

"Oh, um," I said stupidly, not sure what to say. He held his hand out flat to me, telling me to stop stammering like an idiot.

"I apologize that I didn't ask your name immediately, but next time, make sure you introduce yourself from the beginning."

"Yes, sir." I said, ashamed. This stung more than I imagined. I took a deep breath, getting ready for the next scold.

"It looks like we're going to Kansas City because of your package. When we get there, I expect you to be working with my team and getting us what we need, understood?"

I didn't say a word. I wasn't sure if I was being punished or invited into my own office…

"Yes, sir. I'll see you in Kansas City," I turned to leave again. I couldn't wait to get out of this office and actually breathe again.

"Agent Scott, be on the jet in 20 minutes."

I turned. "Sir?"

"You're flying with us. I'm sure the team has more questions and you can give some answers."

"Yes, sir." I said dutifully, stepping out of the office quickly.

Outside, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. This was way more than I bargained for.

"HI!" a peppy voice came beside me, "I'm Penelope Garcia, resident techy expert of all things electronic!"

"Hi," I said back, relieved, "I'm Agent Lauren Scott."

Garcia shook my hand warmly. "Scary, isn't he?"

I nodded, smiling. Garcia took my elbow and began moving me along.

"Now," she said, "I try not to over hear things but I can't help it if my ears stay open. I heard Hotch ask you to get things ready for us in Kansas City, before you ask what, I'll tell you! There are a few things: they'll need a working room, a ton of boards, pushpins, coffee, white paper, pens, black only, no color, maps, a GPS, multiple copies of the case, and more coffee!"

I wasn't aware she was steering me down the hallway.

"Um," I started, "That's a lot…"

"Oh you'll get used to it. Things move pretty fast around us!"

Just as fast as she came, Penelope Garcia was gone in a blur of color. I stood, looking around to see where she had left me. She had dropped me off near the lounge and the coffeepot, again. Straightening my jacket, I took out my phone out of my pocket to make the call back home to get all the things the BAU required.

As I finished my call, I closed my cell phone, and slid it into my pocket. I heard footsteps coming from behind me and I turned.

Derek Morgan was strolling towards me, hands in his pockets, grinning. "Agent Scott, ready to get back home?"

"Almost, just making sure your team has everything they need when you get there," I said, gesturing towards my phone.

"I see. Do you do this messenger thing often?" Morgan asked with a smile.

"Not really," I confessed, "I'm usually in my office doing paperwork but I was ahead and got to make the lovely trip over here to deliver an envelope."

"Good thing you did," Morgan said, he looked down at this watch, "It's time, let's get on out to the jet!"

He turned and I followed him. I saw the rest of the team exiting the main office, bags in hand. I didn't want to be a part of this team or this investigation. I don't think Willington knew any of this was going to happen when he sent me here with an envelope. Now here I was, escorting a team of people back to Kansas City and being the ring leader for them our office.

As I stepped into the jet, I could see most of the team had taken their "usual" seats, sitting comfortable and beginning in conversation. I stood awkwardly in the aisle, not sure where to sit yet.

"Here, Scott, you can sit with me."

I looked to my right to see Dr. Spencer Reid moving his leather messenger bag from the seat next to him and clearing a space for me. Graciously, I smiled at him and sank into the seat thankful not to feel like I was in the high school cafeteria again and not knowing where to sit.

I looked next to me and into the warm brown eyes of Dr. Reid.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, Agent Scott, why did Kansas City wait until they had four victims to bring this to our attention?"

The question came from Agent Rossi, sitting a few rows ahead of me. I took my eyes away from Dr. Reid's and towards him instead.

"It took a while to connect the murders. They were in different cities and up until recently, Kansas City PD thought they could handle the investigation on their own…that was until the media got out of control."

Dr. Reid made an aha noise beside me. My gaze remained glued to the center of the jet, where the BAU team reviewed their files.

"There's no connections between any of the victims?" Agent Prentiss a sked, not looking up from her paperwork.

"None that we can find. The victims lived in different areas in a twenty-mile radius, different socio economic situations, different ages and races, no specific type. But we know it isn't random."

I took a moment to look down at myself. My black suit jacket had become unadjusted, yet again. I was the only one on the jet to be dressed in such a high degree. Most of the agents were wearing slacks and a button up shirt, or in Dr. Reid's case, a vest.

"There is a pattern," Dr. Reid said suddenly, "It's the same weapon, attack method is the same, all attacked in their homes. There's actually a more obvious pattern to this unsub's methodology. Typically serial killers that use the same methods in each kill are more predictable and stable. He's killed the same way four times, he'll do it again. He probably won't devolve the way others do. He's mature and has self-control. He hunts and kills the same way each time, that's what we have to work with. The only thing we don't have is victiminology….how he's choosing them…"

I smiled, impressed at his explanation.

"Meet Spencer Reid," Morgan said, "He does this a lot."

Dr. Reid waved at me from a foot away, as if introducing himself for the first time.

"Reid, I want you and Prentiss at the first scene. The first victim tells the most about an unsub and how he chooses them. Morgan and Rossi, get to the last scene and see what you can find. JJ, set up at Kansas PD and call Garcia to see what she can get on these victims. There's a way he's choosing them, she'll find the connections," Hotchner said quickly.

As he finished, the team slipped into their roles, already starting on their tasks, JJ quickly pulling out her cell phone to get started talking to Garcia. As they started their work, I took a moment to sit back in my seat, folding my hands in my lap, think about my next moves once we got back to Kansas City.

First things first, I'd have to get home and get a change of clothes after this long day, possibly grab a snack, and get some rest later. Who knows the next time I'd be able to get home… I'd heard stories about the BAU and how they worked around the clock. The good work they did could only be accomplished by spending every possible second on a case.

I adjusted my head. My hair was straining to get out of this uptight bun. I wasn't usually so formal at the office and my hair knew it. I could feel my wavy hair staring to pull out of the bun. I knew that if I touched my hair to cinch it back into place the whole thing would unravel.

I felt awkward on the jet. I didn't belong there and I felt like a burden to this team… I wish I hadn't been the one to bring the envelope.

Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. Pulling it out, I looked at the caller ID: "FBI Quantico."

I stood quickly, excusing myself to the back of the jet.

"Agent Scott," I answered.

"Hello there, bright and beautiful, this is your friendly neighborhood techy goddess of all things wonderful and electric!" a peppy voice radiated into my ear.

"Um-" I wasn't quite sure and I looked to the team as if they could hear her, too.

"It's Garcia," the voice said, sounding disappointed.

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"Alright, so I'm looking through your victims habits and lives trying to find connecting links. Sarah Palmer, unfortunate lady number 1, she was a grad student? It says in her file that she changed her major seven times, did you interview any of the friends or faculty at her university? She probably changed it again…"

"Yes," I said, lunging towards my paperwork, "She changed it to…um…hold on."

I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder, making my hair almost make a desperate move to be free. I couldn't find the damned paper! What major was she? Why wouldn't I think of it?

"Elementary Education specializing in Early Childhood Education as well."

The voice came from Dr. Reid, who hadn't looked up at me yet.

"Got it!" Garcia said, "I'll plug that into her info and see if that helps any, toodles!"

Garcia hung up as quickly as she had called. I stared at Dr. Reid… how did he know what I was looking for?

Before I could open my mouth to ask, he looked up at me, "It really wasn't that hard… you used the phrase 'she changed it to' which led me to think that you were talking about college and our only college student was number one, Sarah Palmer, 23, grad student who lived alone."

I marveled at his deduction.

"And the volume on your phone is quite loud… I could hear what Garcia was asking."

"Oh…" I was suddenly embarrassed…another mistake. I wanted to crawl into a hole in the Kansas City dirt and never come out.

I sank into my seat next to Dr. Reid, blushing, feeling like I was being hit with a brick wall everywhere I turned today.

I tried to look through my paperwork as a distraction, I didn't want to continue to feel defeated.

"I'm um….I'm sorry if I embarrassed you… I tend not to think before I speak…it's a bad habit that I have. I usually say things how I observe them and don't process how the human emotion would understand it."

Dr. Reid looked at me apologetically, embarrassed himself.

I shrugged. "It's alright… just a hard day."

I sat back in the seat, bumping my bun against the headrest, dislodging a bobby pin. It fell down the back of my seat, in between the cushions, presumably never to be seen again. My hair started to sag.

"Damnit!" I muttered under my breath, holding my hair and pulling a spare pin from my pocket.

"Excuse me?" Dr. Reid asked as I tried to salvage my hair, praying it would stay until we landed in Kansas City.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Reid," I said, my eyes down as I jammed the bobby pin against my scalp, "This hard day isn't agreeing with me."

He laughed quietly in one breath. "I take it you don't do this sort of this often, do you?"

He observed me and I was hoping he wouldn't make a comment about how my unraveling appearance may reflect unraveling methods in my own life or some profiling speech.

"Hand deliver packages to the BAU, fly back with them, and be asked to be assist them in their investigation? No…that's never happened to me before."

"No, I uh… I meant that you don't put your hair up very often, do you? You use bobby pins that don't suit your type of hair and they're black… your hair is dark copper. Brown would have been more suitable if you did this more often…"

He's looking at my bobby pins? I felt tears behind my eyes. How stupid of me, but I was not used to being this scrutinized. I turned away from him, hands falling to my lap in defeat.

"No, Dr. Reid…. I do not put my hair up often…" I said quietly. Perhaps more quietly than he had expected.

"Oh…" he said suddenly, "I didn't mean to…I mean… I didn't think…that's always my problem… I meant that it's no wonder you're having difficulty and frustrations, you're not using materials suitable for your hair type and that's why… that doesn't sound good either… I mean… if you did this more, then you would be prepared…no… I mean…I…I'm sorry Agent Scott, I don't know what I mean…"

I looked at Dr. Reid. I could tell in his eyes that he was mortified. I could see color flooding his cheeks. He honestly couldn't control his mouth… or his mind.

I sighed. "It's alright, Dr. Reid. I do not put my hair up often because it's a struggle and I don't often find materials that are suitable for my hair type. I was not prepared and it's obvious."

Dr. Reid looked down at his lap. I didn't mean to make him feel bad but I didn't know what else to say. I could feel another hair pin slipping from it's place. I reached back, yanked it out, and slammed it down on my paperwork in front of me.

I closed my eyes and took a breath. This day was not getting better. I couldn't wait to get back to Kansas City.

When I opened my eyes, Dr. Reid had my bobby pin in his hand. His long fingers delicately turned it and examined it. His brow was furrowed and his eyes focused. He looked like he was solving a puzzle.

"Here," he said suddenly, "Turn that way."

I turned towards the aisle away from him. I wasn't going to question him and make things more awkward and uncomfortable.

I felt his hands on my hair and the bobby pin working its way into my bun. I frowned as I wondered how Mr. PhD knew about hair troubles.

As if reading my mind, he started. "The simple engineering isn't all that complex. These are designed to hold to the hair and keep it from slipping. In hair thinner than yours, it would work. If you work with the way it was designed, rather than cling to the hair, you can make it work with another pin and make them twice as strong. Rather than have one big pin, you can use two smaller ones to interlock and hold."

I felt a click and Dr. Reid removed his hands. I turned back towards him and my hair felt like I had just done it this morning. Strong and unmoving.

I smiled at Dr. Reid, still unsure of what to say.

"I mean… it's all just engineering really…" he said quickly as if to save himself.

"Thank you, Dr. Reid," I said with a small smile.

He tried to mirror my smile, almost awkwardly, nodding.

"Hey Reid, you going to do my hair, too?" Morgan called playfully from a few seats ahead of us.

Dr. Reid ducked his head, looking at the paperwork like he hadn't heard.

I glared at Morgan, silently chastising him. Morgan grinned at me and then turned back to his work like it had been nothing.

I didn't know why, but I didn't want anyone or anything to ruin my interaction with Dr. Reid.


	4. Chapter 4

"We're here, gather your things," Hotchner announced.

As we disembarked the jet, adrenaline poured through my veins. He would be expecting a lot from me and I hoped I could deliver. I was also thinking about what Willington would say to me when we arrived. Was he going to be pissed that I was asked to help set up things for the BAU? I wasn't quite sure… even more importantly, were things in the office set up like I had asked? Was Agent Hotchner going to be severely disappointed?

As we walked through the threshold, eyes shot my way as I led the BAU team in. Rushing our way, straightening his tie was my boss, SSA Willington. He thrust his hand out at Hotchner and then at Rossi. He expressed his gratitude at them coming all this way and apologized for having to send me. Willington gave a look like he was apologizing in case I had offended anyone or had done a crappy job. As Hotchner dismissed this notion, he introduced the rest of the team and I excused myself to see that the room Garcia had requested was set up and ready.

As I nodded and stepped away quietly, I made my way down the hallways. I knew I'd only have a few minutes to straighten up or fix anything. It had to be perfect. I wanted to impress these people and show my boss that I was taking care of it.

As I entered the room, I saw the board set up, the pictures and labels done the way I'd asked. I saw the evidence boxes in the corner, each labeled with a name and date. I checked the map to make sure that all the crime scenes were flagged. I held my breath, checking the laptop, hoping that the media covered was queued up and ready to play. Hitting "enter" to refresh the page, I saw that it was. I let my breath out and stepped back, taking in the room.

At once, the evidence board hit me…not proudly that I had ordered this to be put together, very specifically, piece by piece, even with a diagram on my blackberry, but as a case.

I saw them all there…

Victim 1: Sarah Palmer. 23. Caucasian. Grad student. Living alone in an apartment. Killed in her bedroom.

Victim 2: Jane Kelly. 38. Caucasian. Married, two sons. Killed in her kitchen as her family grilled outside.

Victim 3: Margaret Thatcher. 62. African American. Married, foster mother. Killed in the downstairs hallway as her foster family played soccer outside.

Victim 4: Michael Andrews. 38. Caucasian. Married. His family was having dinner at his in-laws while he worked at home late. He was killed in his home office.

I really hoped Garcia was finding out how these people were connected. This unsub killed them for a reason… if we didn't find out why, there would be more.

"No sign of forced entry and no fight inside… the unsub must have known them or didn't appear as a threat."

Dr. Reid was behind me, standing in the doorway. I turned, smiling, welcoming his presence here.

"If he knew them, Garcia will find a link," I said, trusting the techy goddess would live up to her name, "If not, he was someone the victims would trust and allow into their homes."

"Perhaps a service man?" Derek Morgan offered, stepping inside.

"No," I said softly, "It was late. About 7:30pm. The sun had just gone down and it was getting dark. It would have been too late for a service call. The victims would have been suspicious."

Morgan stepped up to the evidence board, examining.

"All killed with the same weapon? Did they confront him? None of the families got a look at him?" Emily Prentiss asked, dropping her bag in the corner and approaching Morgan.

"Same .38 hand gun. The families who were home never heard an argument or voices. All they heard was the gunshot. By the time they got inside, their attention was on the victim. If they had seen the unsub, they didn't realize it."

"This is someone who fits in," Hotchner said, I hadn't realized he'd come in, "He can blend in to any community, no one sees him coming or going, and doesn't see anything suspicious. What kind of person would seem normal in all these neighborhoods, at this time, and still walk out easily?"

"White, middle class man," Dr. Reid says, "Typically these kinds of men are unnoticed because they're everywhere. If they are successful and confident, they are trusted. It's a look they use to their advantage. If someone saw you, Hotch, walking through a neighborhood after hearing a gunshot, they wouldn't suspect you. White middle class men don't strike us as out of place. Society tends to think of criminals as someone 'you'd pick out of a crowd'. Even though we know this isn't true, that Ted Bundy was a white man who was easily trusted but yet a serial killer, society still thinks that they would know what a bad guy would look like. Unfortunately it tends to be who we don't suspect…"

"So we're looking at white, middle class man coming up to houses around dark, talking their way in and shooting their victims…" JJ says slowly, putting it together.

"Reid and Prentiss, go to the first crime scene. See how Sarah Palmer fits in to this. She's where he started. She's the beginning. Morgan, I'll go with you and Rossi to the last crime scene. JJ, call Garcia and see what she's got and then call the media and a press conference to get this coverage under control. Scott, I need you here to add evidence to this board as we collect it. During that time, look at this case again. Go through every file if you need to. Find something we're missing," Hotch drilled.

Eyes turned to me. No one, especially me, thought I'd still be included in this scene. I nodded, which it seemed like everyone was waiting for. I looked at the evidence board and saw a mistake… it said Sarah Palmer was a major in biology. Damnit, that was wrong! Garcia even called to check it. I couldn't wait till everyone got out of the room so I could fix it.

As everyone filed out the door to get started, I saw Dr. Reid follow my gaze to the board. No, no, no! Please don't see the mistake! Well, I know you'll see it but please don't tell me that you do! Please don't see it!

He looked, his eyes dancing along the words…then they stopped. He saw it. He looked back at me and saw the sheer terror and defeat in my eyes. My perfect work, WRONG! Dr. Reid looked at me carefully, putting every piece into his puzzle. Figuring it out, he relaxed his shoulders and winked at me, strolling out of the room, hands in his pockets, smiling victoriously.

I said a silent thank you to Dr. Spencer Reid for not embarrassing me again.

Agent Hotchner approached me on his way out the door.

"I'm going to speak to SSA Willington about keeping you on this case while we're here. Oh and thank you for getting everything ready," he said, never making eye contact.

I nodded awkwardly and let him pass. Thank you! Agent Hotchner told me 'thank you! Yes! I did well! Even if I got the grad student's major wrong, I got an A+ from Agent Hotchner!

I did a silent cheer in my head, put a smile on my face, and sashayed over to the evidence board, ready to figure this case out… Except I stared… nothing was coming into place and making sense…

I pulled open the evidence boxes and started to go through each crime scene. Maybe I'd find something in there that we'd missed. After all, I am good at paperwork.

"Prentiss," she answered.

"Hi, it's Lauren Scott, you're at Sarah Palmer's apartment, right? The first victim?" I asked, papers in hand.

"Yeah, we're here. Gotta say, nothing out of the ordinary…" she said. I could hear her picking things up and examining there. Dr. Reid said something in the background.

"So listen, I just spoke to Sarah's boyfriend, Todd Rainey, he's doing alright so I asked him to go to her place while you are there. He's going to look around and see if anything is out of place or different. She was the first victim, the unsub might have made a mistake."

"Sounds good, wait what? No, here, you talk to her," Prentiss said, I hear Dr. Reid in the background again.

"Agent Scott," Dr. Reid said into the phone, "Do you have pictures of the other crime scenes? Not just the bodies, around the rooms, the atmosphere. I want to look at them when we get back."

"No," I said regretfully, "But I can get those for you and send someone out there to get them."

"Ok, thanks, I'll take some pictures here as well," Dr. Reid said, I heard him turning back to the room, probably looking around the room, "Oh and Agent Scott? Please stop calling me Dr. Reid. I did get three Ph.D.s and love to remember that I am indeed a doctor but it's very formal. The team just calls me Reid. Please do the same."

"10-4, Reid, and you don't need to call me Agent Scott. Scott or Lauren works for me," I retorted.

"Um…10-4 back at you? Well…ok…um…bye, Scott," Reid hung up quickly and awkwardly.

My first move was to get someone out to the crime scenes and take pictures, then call the rest of the team to see what headway they were making, then Garcia to gather her intel, and then back into the paperwork.

Realizing I was alone in the room, and probably no one would bother me, I did it. I ripped out the 27 bobby pins in my bun and put them into a pile on the file in front of me. I shook out my hair, finger combing it to keep some sort of professional order. Dr….I mean, Reid was right about my hair at least. It was dark copper and wavy as could be. A few solid curls but nothing like Shirley Temple. And it was way too long to be pulled up into a bun and expected to stay there all day.

I massaged my crown, apologizing to my hair for doing such awful things to it. I flopped it over to the left, out of my way, almost like moving vines in a jungle out of the way. Hopefully it would be less of a problem now and I could get some work done.

"See, here's the interesting thing, my dear lovely lady of all things Midwestern," Garcia said in her usual charm, "I'm looking through your unfortunate winners of this sicko's killer contest and I'm finding zip."

I sighed. Damn. I thought she'd find something. All she did was work through her computer to find the smallest piece of helpful news.

"But," she said suddenly, "I am the one, the only, the most wonderful queen of the all-knowing! I did find some basics. They all shopped regularly at different grocery stores. Not the same one, but definitely schedules; number one was every second Monday, family 2 was every Friday, family 3 was twice a week, Sundays and Tuesdays, and unfortunate number 4 was every Wednesday at exactly 4:45. It doesn't _really_ link them, but their routine says maybe someone saw them every time they were there."

"Hmm," I thought, it was a long stretch, but that might be something… "Garcia, cross-check lists of employees and suppliers against the stores the victims shopped at. Maybe he worked through all these chains and ran into them."

"Check, over and out!"

I considered calling the team and letting them know what we were thinking…but in case Garcia had nothing, I didn't want to seem like a fool again.

Even if he worked at the grocery stores, he still was getting into their houses after dark easily… what would make him so trustworthy?


	5. Chapter 5

"Scott, what do you have?" Hotchner asked icily.

I could tell that people skills weren't his thing.

"Well," I tried not to stammer, "Reid and Prentiss talked to Sarah Palmer's boyfriend at her apartment to see if anything was out of place. Garcia found a minor link involving grocery stores. I'm having her cross-check store workers and suppliers now."

"Alright, we need to keep moving. We haven't timed this yet to see how much longer we have before we have another body," Hotchner said briskly.

"Yes, sir," I said. I itched to ask him if they figured out how the unsub's getting into the homes so easily but I didn't want to be questioning Hotchner about what he had. That was his place, not mine.

Hotchner hung up without a farewell and I pulled out more files, again.

My phone buzzed on the table next to me. Garcia. Please have something!

Zip. Apparently there were employees that were at all the stores the victims shopped at, but were only there at the same time as one. The deliveries didn't correlate to shopping habits. Deliveries only happened on Wednesday nights.

Damn. So grocery stores were out. I made a face at my phone, willing it to suddenly have something useful.

Grocery stores weren't it but we may have something else going on… I pulled out contact files and made quick calls to the surviving spouses, maybe they had something about their families' habits that would get us something else…

Once I had ensured they could all come in, I called JJ, who was out quelling the media. She was going to finish up and come back in to interview the families.

I texted Garcia back with the plan, hoping she would dig a little deeper and possibly find something else. These families were connected and chosen... but how was our guy doing it?

Setting my phone down, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I smiled to myself, taking a moment to sit back and look around me. Willington was probably kicking himself that I was actually doing a good job on this.

Garcia texted me back with a list of hobbies and extracurriculars the families had been involved in: gyms, little leagues, soccer teams, schools, ice cream shops, everything. Damn she was good!

Grabbing my phone, I marched off to get this printed out. I wasn't sure about the team, but I liked having everything on paper and being able to actually manipulate it.

Marching down the hallway, I knew everyone was looking at me. It was the first time since we'd come back that I'd emerged from that room. I tried not to think about how tired I was. It was going on seven o'clock. I usually only worked until five. At this time, I'd just be finished dinner, lounging on the couch watching the news and relaxing with a glass of wine.

I shook my head slightly, I'd rather be here right now. Punching numbers into the printer, it sprang to life, connecting wirelessly to my phone, and printing out Garcia's list. I copied enough for the team, plus one for the evidence board, and headed back to the office.

Glancing at the list as I walked, I wondered what we could find in the different hobbies… I knew Garcia had already cross-checked everyone listed in every habit, but I wondered who might slip through the cracks… who wouldn't be an official employee or be on a manifest?

I frowned as I stared at the list, walking into our make-shift command center.

"Lauren," a female voice said. It was JJ. SHIT!

I looked up. The entire team had come back and was in the office and I hadn't realized it. I suddenly felt embarrassed and awkward. I felt like I needed to explain why I hadn't been working when they came back. Well, I was working, I just wasn't glued to the files.

"The families didn't have anything helpful. The families all had normal routines and habits and none of them overlap…" JJ said, sounding defeated.

Crap… we were coming up with nothing. The team looked at me to see if I had any answers. I stood frozen, I know I didn't.

"Garcia checked routines as well… she didn't find any links… she did, however, get a list of all the locations and places they visited regularly…"

I handed each of them the list. I kept my eyes down, not wanting to seem too hopeful. On the last person, my eyes did look up. At Spencer Reid. His stoic face melted into a soft smile, his eyes widening somewhat. He tiled his head towards me slightly, almost like he didn't want anyone else to see.

I mirrored his action. I felt my hair against my shoulder. SHIT! My hair was still down! How unprofessional! I felt a look of terror fall across my face. Was I destined to mess up at every opportunity?

Reid's smile stayed, his eyes always figuring out the puzzle.

"But Garcia already checked employees and bank statements and there's no overlap?" Prentiss asked.

"No…" I said depressed. Why did I even bring this up if there was nothing to it…. shit…

"Right…" Hotchner said, dismissing me, "We need to-"

His phone rang. Then JJ's. Then Rossi's. Oh no…

Hotch looked down. "There's been another."

My stomach dropped. Crap. I wasn't able to find anything and now our body count went up.

"Let's go," Hotch said, leading the team out. Their faces were disappointed. Morgan looked determined. I knew, deep down, he was hopeful that they would find the missing link we needed.

"Reid, you stay here. Look at the evidence and find something," Hotch said, looking back slightly.

I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach. I had failed in finding something so Hotchner needed Reid to go back through it. Damn. I felt defeated and disappointed in myself.

I sighed, flipping my hair over to the right side. My suit jacket had become dislodged again. Goddamn this thing! It was always riding up and driving me crazy. I pulled it off and hung it on the back of a chair. If Willington came in now and saw me, he'd be mortified. He'd think I was practically naked in front of the BAU in just slacks and a button up, especially with my hair down.

Reid hadn't noticed. He was inches away from the evidence board, looking at it all.

"I got the pictures you'd asked for," I told him, pulling the stack off the table.

He turned, "Great, I have mine as well."

"Here," I said, taking a step towards him, "Let me get a picture for each crime scene and put them up."

He sorted through his pile and found an appropriate picture for each scene, handing them to me so I could hang them up under the pictures of the bodies.

Once they were up, we just stared. Nothing had clicked into place like I'd hoped.

"Oh," Reid said suddenly, "I spoke to Sarah Palmer's boyfriend. He said she had the normal habits of running in the morning, going to get a smoothie after, working on papers, and nothing much else. She kept to herself and there was no way she'd open her door to a total stranger…"

I frowned. That didn't help at all.

"Was anything out of place?" I asked, turning to the crime scene photos that Reid had taken.

"Yeah," he said frowning, shuffling the stack to find the picture, "He said that this book wasn't in its place."

Reid showed me a picture of a bookshelf. The books were all organized and put away neatly. One book remained on top of the shelf alone.

"He said she never left books out. She was very particular about her things and how they were put away…" Reid said.

"Reid…look… it's not put away because it's a library book… was that the only one she took out?" I asked, not tearing my eyes away from the picture.

Reid closed his eyes, thinking. "No, she had a stack by her laptop like she was writing a paper and doing research."

"What was this book that was left out over here?" I asked, straining my eyes to see. I saw colors but couldn't make out the title.

"It's Goodnight, Moon, a children's book…most of her books where. She was doing her graduate degree in Elementary Education. She'd need all these for her papers…" he said.

"No…" I said, thinking, "You said her boyfriend told you she was very particular. All her other books are put away neatly and her library books were in the same place…"

I looked harder at the picture. Above the bookshelf I could see Sarah Palmer's keys hung on her key ring where she'd placed them the last time she came home. She was organized.

"Reid, what was on her key chain…" I could see cards, the small kind used for rewards at different stores.

Reid rattled them off like he had them in front of him. "A smoothing place, tanning salon, grocery store, and a library card."

"A library card…" I repeated, already reaching at the stack of pictures from the other crime scenes.

"Garcia would've checked library cards… she doesn't miss anything… the families never said anything about libraries… Garcia would have found it…library systems are extremely categorized and difficult. You have to show ID and prove your residence to get a library card. Garcia would have tracked names and found connections if it was the library cards…" Reid rattled.

It didn't matter. I'd found the pictures. I slapped the pictures down on the table in front of us.

Jane Kelly's keys, Margaret Thatcher's keys, and Michael Andrew's keys: library cards on every one.

Reid stared at them.

"Reid…that's it… it's the library!"


	6. Chapter 6

"Sorry, Boy Wonder," Garcia said on speakerphone, "All of the victims used different library branches. They didn't go to the same one. Sarah Palmer and Jane Kelly's accounts are active but the others aren't. Margaret Thatcher hasn't checked out a book since she became a foster mother five years ago and Michael Andrews only used his card when he was in college."

"Did any of them check out Good Night, Moon?" Reid asked, thinking that the first murder told the most…

"Hotch, you're at the latest scene? Are there library books? Check the key chains and wallet…is there a library card?" I asked quickly, hoping he wouldn't ask me for an explanation. This had to be the link, it had to.

"Hold on… no books but there is a library card in his wallet… what's this about?" Hotchner asked.

"Reid and I are figuring it out. We'll keep you updated!" I said, hanging up without hearing his response. Whoops…hope that doesn't come back to bite me.

"Garcia doesn't have anything," Reid said, phone still at his ear.

"Hold on… Reid what other books did Sarah Palmer have? I know this is it…" I said, digging through the pictures.

"Lauren," Reid said gently, using my name for the first time, "It's okay… we'll figure it out… this might not be-"

"Garcia!" I almost yelled, grabbing the phone from Reid, "Work your magic, cross check our victims library records with this list of books, Sarah Palmer had these ones checked out: Where The Wild Things Are, A Sick Day for Amos McGee, and Owl Moon."

"Owl Moon," Garcia said abruptly, "Victim #2 Jane Kelly checked it out two years ago… none of the other victims did."

"Ok, check Jane Kelly's check out history with the next victim, Margaret Thatcher…"

"Way ahead of you, friend, oh ok…wow…this is scary creepy… So Sarah Palmer checked out Good Night, Moon, and that owl book... Jane Kelly checked out the owl book two years ago… she also checked out A Tree Grows in Brooklyn at the same time…who else checked out that book? None other than victim number three, Margaret Thatcher… she checked out The Warmth of Other Suns and so did Michael Andrews five years ago…"

"They're connected," Reid said, piecing it together, taking the phone from me, "It started with Good Night, Moon, that book was out of place… he saw Sarah Palmer's other books and found Jane Kelly through it… once he knew what Jane Kelly checked out, he got Margaret Thatcher…then Michael Andrews…"

"That's how I didn't catch this before," Garcia said, "Only two of the library accounts were active, the others weren't, they hadn't been used in years… he works for the library. That's the only way he'd have access to files and histories… let me check lists of employees that have access to the system."

"Hold on," I said, grabbing the phone back from Reid, "Good Night, Moon, that's how this started… Garcia try the history of that book, our unsub had to have checked it out if he's this into the library system…"

"Aye Aye, Captain, and we have a winner, Austin Myers, he's checked out the book 181 times. He extends the due date, returns it, and then checks it out again. It looks like Sarah Palmer put a hold request on it. Oh no… that's what made him find her…" Garcia's voice trailed off.

"Why would he kill her?" Reid thought to himself, "Would a hold request make him that angry? Maybe she wouldn't give it to him… he's had an obsession with this book and anything that came in his path would anger him, obviously enough to kill her. But why go after the others… He saw her other books and tracked previous readers… he had to have had a reason."

"Bingo," Garcia said, I'd forgotten we were still on the phone with her, "Sheila and Austin Myers were in a car accident ten years ago. Sheila, age 34, died at the scene, her son Austin Myers, 5, survived. Dad died of cancer three years before; grandparents weren't healthy enough to take Austin. Oh no, he went into foster care and bounced around from home to home. Reid… he's 16."

"His mom," Reid said, "That's the obsession about this book… his mom must have read it to him and it's his only connection back to her. He's been able to keep her memory through having that book."

"Why wouldn't he just buy it?" I asked.

"He may be afraid his foster families would ridicule him for reading a children's book. At the library, no one can see that he's checked it out and has it. He was able to keep checking it out and keeping it until Sarah Palmer needed it and put a hold request on it. He'd have to turn it in and part with it. He probably couldn't bear to part with it and might have thought he wouldn't be able to get that memory back of his mother," Reid explained.

He pulled his phone out, "Hotch, we got him. Austin Myers, he works for the library. Garcia's texting you his address now."

I felt relieved. "We got him."

Phone hung up, I knew the team would be heading to get Austin Myers.

"How do you think he got in, Reid?" I asked, thinking about the fact that there was no forced entry or struggle.

Reid shrugged, "He may have lied and said his phone died and he needed to use theirs… it was after dark and the victims may have felt bad about a kid walking home alone in the dark…we'll have to see when he gets here."

I nodded, turning back to the evidence board. "But why did he kill them? All of them?"

Reid came to stand beside me. "He thought Sarah Palmer took his book, his memory. That was his stressor… the others… he created that link between them… something about them made him feel like they were taking his memory, too…"

"We got him," Morgan announced, coming into the office, "We got him."

"He's just a kid," JJ said, almost sad.

"Killer kid," Prentiss added.

"Rossi's in with him now," Hotchner grumbled, "Reid, I want you to watch, make sure what he's saying adds up. Scott, I need to speak with you."

Reid stepped away from my side towards the interview room. I felt loneliness and vulnerability from the second he moved. Hotchner made eye contact with me and I felt my knees lock. He took a step towards me as the team left to watch the interview.

"How did you know it was the library?" he asked, his tone low, almost dangerous.

"Um… Reid interviewed Sarah Palmer's boyfriend and-"

"No," he said, glaring at me like I was in trouble, "Garcia didn't find a connection and you went on that idea anyways. You kept probing to make a connection. You could have cost the team time if you were wrong."

"I wasn't wrong, sir," I said, trying not to be defensive.

"I'll ask again, how did you know it was the library?" his tone was colder. Why was I getting in trouble for this?

"It was the only connection, I knew there had to be something there… we just had to look harder… it looked like there was nothing there but there was… he made a connection between these victims that wouldn't be obvious to anyone else because_ he_ made it… the way to find him had to be just the same."

Hotchner nodded. "That's the answer I wanted to hear. You didn't know how you knew… but that was it."

I stared at him, unmoving. It was late, very late. I didn't even want to know what time it really was.

"Alright, well good work, let's go see what progress they're making with Myers…" Hotchner said, walking out of the room.

I followed quietly, still not breathing after his harsh interrogation with me.

Outside the interview room, the team stood silently, arms crossed. They made a path for Hotchner, who went straight to the front to be in front of the glass. Reid made a spot for me to stand next to him. I smiled graciously and he returned it, with a smaller, more controlled smile.

"Why did you go to Sarah Palmer's apartment?" Rossi asked the tall, gangly blonde haired boy across the table from him.

Austin Myers sat hunched, not making eye contact. His hands were in his lap, he looked like he wanted to fold in onto himself.

"She had my book…" he said quietly.

"And you don't like sharing, do you?" Rossi asked, a hint of dominance in his voice.

"She had it… it was mine… she didn't know…"

"So you killed her." Rossi stated, preparing for an admission from Myers.

"She had a voice like my mom's…." he swallowed, I felt Reid stiffen next to me, "My mom used to read to me every night… no one in foster care ever read to me… then that girl took my book… she took it…. I just wanted it back…and then I heard her voice… I asked her to read it to me…"

"She said no," Rossi finished his sentence.

"She said no. She called me a freak. She wouldn't give me the book back…she wouldn't read it to me… and I saw her other books… I wondered who else she stole from…"

"That's how you found Jane Kelly," Rossi continued, coaxing him along.

"I wanted to know what she read… I asked her to read something to me…" he said quietly, his voice cracking.

I didn't want to hear the rest of it. I knew he had killed five people but the way his voice sounded, so sad… I didn't want to hear it. I turned and left the hallway outside the interview room.

"Lauren, are you okay?" JJ asked from behind me. I turned.

"Yeah… I'm alright… I'm just not used to any of this… I don't do this as often as you all do," I said, trying to find some way of explaining it.

She smiled a small smile, "I understand. It's a lot the first time. You did a good job. I know that sometimes it feels like it's unnoticed, but you did really well, Hotch knows that."

I nodded. I wasn't sure what I wanted out of this whole situation. Everything was said and done and the bad guy was caught. The end, right? The BAU was going to go back to DC and I was going to stay here and get back to my stack of paperwork.

Shoot, about that, I'm sure I had something to turn into Willington today…

I made my way back to my desk, sitting down, and sifting through paperwork. I doubted the BAU would notice that I left or would say anything before leaving. I found the paper I was looking for, sure enough it was due to Willington today. I double-checked the data on it.

I heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Dr. Reid.

"Thank you for helping on the case…" he said, not sure whether to smile or not.

I nodded, "You're welcome."

He stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight on his feet, his hands in his pockets.

"You're not from here, are you, Lauren?" he asked me suddenly.

The question caught me off guard. "No, I'm not… how did you know?"

"Your dialect," he said, "It's not Midwestern. You probably don't even realize it but the way you speak is characteristic of where you grew up and learned to speak. It's funny, actually, they've done studies on different variables of speech, dialect, and location, and basically wherever you were when you learned to speak and who surrounded you were how you learned. Even small words, when you hear them said one way, you believe that to be the right way and you copy it… you're not Midwestern."

I smiled. "Then, Dr. Reid, you know where I'm from."

He grinned, "Tennessee. Southern. You've been in the Midwest for long enough to lose some of it but it's still there. You were probably teased about using some vernacular here, such as 'y'all'"

I nodded. "Absolutely right, Dr. Reid."

He took a second to gain his composure, his smile fading. "You haven't touched your hair in a long time…."

"I'm sorry?" Oh no… more about my damn hair.

"Women tend to touch their hair a lot when they're thinking or they subconsciously want to bring attention to it or to their face. The eyes follow the hands of the person they're watching. If a woman touches her hair, the partner sees it, usually thinking about the way it's done, the way it falls, or even travelling over to her face. It's a social motion that's subconscious but it works…not that you'd want me to look at your hair or your face, but I'm thinking that since you haven't touched it, you're trying to keep the people around you from looking at your hair… is that because I made that comment about it on the jet?"

Um, wow… I wasn't sure what to say. I ended up laughing instead.

"Well…um… Dr. Reid… I suppose I haven't touched my hair because I didn't want everyone to notice that it wasn't done professionally and perhaps I am self conscious because it's a tangled mess?"

Reid shook his head. "On the contrary, wavy or curly hair is a traditional symbol of femininity and softness. Most paintings from the renaissance and medieval periods show women with curly and wavy hair. Botticelli painted 'The Birth of Venus' with her having long, flowing wavy hair. Even the 'Venus Anadyomene' is the same way. Actually most depictions of Venus had the same hair type and Venus was thought to be the most beautiful creature in existence."

"Oh…well…" I said, stammering.

"So in reality, most women with your hair type would use it to their advantage, knowing the background histories and attempting to use it as a means of subconscious communication. You, on the other hand, don't…which I believe says a lot about you…"

"I see…" I said, really not getting anything of what Reid was saying.

"Scott," a gruff voice called. I looked up. Ugh. Willington. "My office, now!"

Great, I thought, rising from my seat, taking the paper I was going to turn in with me. Reid stood awkwardly next to my desk, unmoving.

"I'll be back," I said, trying to sound hopeful that I wouldn't get my head chewed off, really more hoping that the BAU wouldn't leave before I could see them off.

"Scott," Willington repeats again, "How is it that I send you to bring a team here and you end up working with them?"

"Um," I answer uncomfortably, "That was Agent Hotchner's decision…"

"Yes, I spoke to him. Under the circumstances, I do not believe it to be in this office's best interest to keep you here…"

Wait what? Was I being fired for this?


	7. Chapter 7

"I do not believe it to be in this office's best interest to keep you here…"

Crap…I was being fired. My hair was itching the back of my neck. If my hair being down is getting me fired, I'm going to be pissed!

"You went beyond what was requested of you and you failed to complete your duties at your office due to you being preoccupied by work that was not designated for you."

"Sir… you sent me to DC because I'd already gotten ahead in my work…so it was already completed…"

Oh no… I'm crossing the line. I tried not to be defensive but I was not going to let myself get fired for this!

"Ms. Scott-" Willington started, looking at a paper on his desk.

"Agent Scott," I corrected him. Oh shit… foot in mouth, just shut up already!

He looked up at me irritated.

"Agent Scott," he began again, "it is in this office's best interest, and yours, for you to be transferred immediately to another location."

I pursed my lips to keep from yelling. Willington was always a jerk, but to come down to this? I really underestimated him.

"I've looked into other positions for you and-"

"Agent Scott has already been reassigned," a voice came from the doorway.

I knew the voice so I dared not turn around. It was Hotchner. I wasn't sure were my loyalties should lie at the moment so I stayed where I was.

"Agent Scott has been transferred immediately. The paperwork will be coming to you as a copy. It has already been approved," he continued.

Willington glared at him behind me. I wasn't sure if Hotchner was helping him or me.

"What are you talking about?" Willington spat, "Her reassignment is coming from my office, it is under my control and approval."

"No, it's not," Hotchner said coolly, "It has already been taken care of, it is out of your control. You'll get the paperwork."

Willington turned a shade between red and purple. He was furious. Oh thank god my reassignment wasn't under his control.

"Scott," Hotchner commanded. I almost felt like a dog being called to follow it's master. Between Hotchner and Willington, however, I'd gladly pick Hotchner.

Without making eye contact with Willington, I followed Hotchner out.

In the hallway, I looked at him for an explanation. He continued to walk but did not make eye contact.

"After Myers was arrested, I spoke with Willington about the work you did with us and I wanted to make sure you were spoken of as highly as possible. Rather than appreciate the praise you were getting, he was bitter and preferred you to be reassigned. I believe he was angry that he was not asked to work on the case. Regardless, after our discussion, I called Quantico and ensured you a position there. It has already been approved."

"Oh…" I was stunned. Quantico? Where was I supposed to live? What was I going to be doing?

"I appreciate all the work you've done with us and the position you'll be entering should be quite suitable for you and your talents," Hotchner continued.

"Oh…" I was still speechless.

"This is a rare offer, Agent Scott. I suggest that you accept it and fulfill your role quickly," he said.

Crap! He thinks I'm being ungrateful!

"I understand, Agent Hotchner, thank you very much. I appreciate your concern during this situation… sir… what position am I assuming?" I asked hesitantly.

"Your position is at the Quantico office. It is an extension of the BAU. We cannot add agents into our field team but we need agents at the office who continue to work on our cases. We receive a lot of potential cases, some of which we take and some of which we cannot. JJ handles most of that and decides which are the ones we start on. That is becoming a job in itself. That is what you'll be doing."

My eyes lit up. Paperwork! Yes! Case files! Yes! Not having to go out and chase the bad guys! YES!

"You're pleased…" Agent Hotchner deduced.

"Yes, sir," I say, trying to quell my enthusiasm, "That sounds right up my alley."

Oh no… that was way too formal to say to Agent Hotchner. He seemed off guard and uncomfortable.

"Good. I expect you in DC within the week," he stated, marching off to find the team.

Oh god… I'm leaving Kansas City (thank goodness!). But I'm moving to DC? And working as "an extension" of the BAU? Double awesomeness!

I let myself have a big smile. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Garcia?

"Yes, Garcia? Did the team tell you what happened?"

"Yes, yes, but more importantly, I get to see your bright and shining face back here in a few days! Excitement aside, a great big WOOHOO, I've called a moving company and they're on the way to your apartment as we speak. Your neighbor has your keys and is letting them in. They'll be moving everything to DC as soon as possible. I checked the details on your apartment there and found you one here, close to the Metro, bigger, all the comforts of home, and for a cheaper price. Just tell me you love me!" she said brightly.

I was stunned…

"Say it!" she said more argumentatively.

"Oh Garcia… you are the master of all things. You could rule the world," I said, still unbelieving she was moving my whole life into boxes from states away.

"Tell me something I don't know," she purred contentedly.

"I won't be terrified that you somehow got all this information about me, as well even the keys to my home, but I'll instead be satisfied and happy that I don't have to do it myself!" I said, trying to be excited instead of horrified.

"All part of my charm," she said, "By the way, the team should be tackling you in 3, 2-"

"THERE SHE IS!" Morgan boomed behind me. My phone fell to the floor.

"Sorry, Garcia, you know how he gets," JJ said into my phone, picking it up.

The team surrounded me with high fives and pats on the back. I felt embarrassed and overwhelmed. I did not like being the center of attention.

"It'll be great to have you," Prentiss offered with a smile.

"Where's Reid?" Rossi asked, staying at the back of the crowd around me.

"He said he had to get something before we left," Morgan suggested, pulling his cell phone out to call him to check.

Hotchner calmed everyone down. I figured he was always like this.

As the team prepared to leave, they continued to remind me that they would be seeing me in a few days. They gathered their bags and started towards the jet. Walking into our make-shift command center, I started to pack away the files. Case closed, time to move on.

I heard a shuffle at the doorway. I lifted my head up and waves of hair fell across my face. I swooped my arm down and flung them back out of the way. It was Reid.

"Hey," he said, out of breath.

"Hey," I returned, smiling, "Your team is leaving."

"Yeah," he said, "kind've… I mean you're still here… I heard…congratulations!"

He smiled genuinely. I returned his expression again.

"Anyway, I know I'll see you in a few days, but I got you something. It's kind've like a welcome/thank you gift. Welcome to the almost team, welcome to DC, thank you for helping me… well… it's just… here," he said, stammering.

He held out a small white box, smaller than the palm of my hand. Reid looked uncomfortable and almost embarrassed. I wished he would stop doing that.

I smiled and took off the lid of the box carefully. Inside, nestled on a pad of white cotton was a keychain. It was a miniature picture of Botticelli's 'The Birth of Venus.'

I looked up at Reid, color filling my cheeks, his eyes warm and thankful that clearly I loved it. I looked down again, admiring. Reid was right… Venus did have long wavy hair.

"Reid, I love it," I started.

"It's for your new keys," he stated, having a confidence about him that I hadn't seen before, "and a reminder that it's okay to touch your hair sometimes."

I giggled under my breath, hearing Reid do the same. I kept staring at the key chain, running my fingers over it.

I turned it over and saw an engraving. Reid explained it.

"My mom used to tell me that 'in the wake of struggle comes purpose.' You didn't want to bring that envelope to us but then…well… you… you know…," Reid struggled to find the right words.

Reid's mother's words were engraved on the back of Botticelli's artwork, a constant reminder.

I lifted my head up and waves of hair fell across my face. Pushing them away, I smiled, laughing, and looked up into the warm eyes of Dr. Spencer Reid.

* * *

To be continued in "Into the Deep"


End file.
